Will to Survive
by Chocobo Goddess
Summary: Nineteen years is a long time to wait for something.  It's pretty much certain that if it hasn't happened by then, it might be time to move on.  On the other hand, you know...'all good things', and all that.
1. Tone

_Venezia, 1495_

Leonardo's mouth felt bruised, messy, but at that moment he did not care. He wanted more of that feeling, the softness and hardness and the nip of teeth on his lips and the rasp of Ezio's unshaven face, the fullness of that mouth and the ferocious desire that burned away any reticence either of them might once have had.

The kisses grew more intense, swift clashes of tongues and teeth that rubbed their lips raw. Leonardo closed his eyes, let his head loll back, bared his neck to Ezio. He could not hold in a sharp moan at the feeling of those teeth on his skin. He twisted his fingers into the billowing white sleeves of Ezio's shirt, unfettered by armor, and pulled the man closer to him.

On nights like this, Leonardo could almost forget that Ezio wasn't really his.

He was never sure if he regretted his decision or not. Seven years was quite enough time for Leonardo to get used to the "arrangement", as they politely referred to it. Ezio might leave for weeks, months, or even years, but when he returned, he was always full of dark dreams and in need of the comfort that only Leonardo could offer him.

_Sicurezza e pace_, indeed.

When Ezio was there, Leonardo shoved aside the feelings that what he was doing wasn't right or healthy, choosing instead to have the option of that warm, strong body next to him for a night or two. After that first, unplanned, too-revealing night, they had agreed that certain rules had to be set. The arrangement was supposed to be simply for sleep, for Ezio to stay the night in Leonardo's bed with the comfort of his friend's presence to chase away the shadows.

That was the intention, at least, but during those hours together they rarely remained completely chaste. In the beginning, they had tried to refrain from those damning kisses, but as they slept their bodies would press closer together, faces would bury themselves against necks, hands would wander over muscular flesh, and then, in the darkest hours before dawn, still hazy from waking, their mouths would unerringly find each other of their own accord.

In time, they gave up the pretense of propriety. More than once, Leonardo would be working in his studio, his assistants gone for the day and some project or another capturing his attention, when suddenly he would not be alone. Strong arms would encircle him, a powerful body would align itself along his back, and a full, scarred mouth would nibble at his ear. Leonardo began to live for those times, rare though they were. It meant he could give in to his hunger for a taste of what he knew was out of reach.

Leonardo had at least been strong enough to stand by his insistence that no matter what else he and Ezio might do in bed, there were _lines_ they could not cross. Not unless Ezio bade farewell to his courtesans, or Caterina, or the countless incidental women who were drawn to his handsome face and charming smile. Ezio was Ezio, after all, and there was little chance that he'd give up his philandering ways.

But while it was tempting blame the whole thing on Ezio's charm or his own weakness, Leonardo knew where the truth lay. As much as he might wish otherwise, the arrangement was really just giving them both a way to use each other. Neither of them wanted to hurt the other, but if they went on as they were, it was bound to happen. Leonardo might gain someone to cling to in bed once in a while, but each time he did, he lost a little more of himself.

That would have to end tonight.

Easier thought than done. It required all of his will to drag his mouth away from Ezio's; really, it was almost criminal, the things that man could do with his tongue. But they had a lot to discuss tonight, and Leonardo had already put it off twice. He couldn't let it slide any longer.

"Ezio, please. Ezio!" It was so hard to concentrate with those lips moving along the skin of his neck, those strong fingers teasing along his spine. Leonardo had to physically push himself away before he could be dragged under once more. "Ezio," he said more firmly, "_No._"

The pleasantly languid atmosphere still clung to them both despite his attempt to shake it off. Ezio watched him in confusion, startled at the unexpected turn of Leonardo's mood. "What is it?"

"Just...no." He climbed backward off the bed in hopes that putting distance between them would help cool his blood. He tried not to look at the man lying before him, because if he did, he knew he would just put this off another night. He'd run out of nights to do it. "Ezio, I...I have a letter."

"A letter, really." That earned him a raised brow and a smirk, though he could sense a wariness under the insouciant words. Ezio was no fool; he realized something was up. "Is it such an important letter that we have to talk about it this minute?"

"_Si_." Leonardo moved to the mantel above the fireplace and picked up the folded piece of paper that had haunted his thoughts for the past few weeks. The wax seal still clung to the edges, though broken and crumbling, and it opened easily along the folds. Leonardo had read the thing dozens of times since it arrived, and by now he knew his answer. "It's for a commission."

The cocky smile faded entirely, and Ezio sat up. "A commission, that's good," he said carefully. "For whom?"

"Ludovico Sforza." He held the letter out to Ezio, its ribbons dangling. "In Milano."

Ezio took it, the sharpness of his glance revealing that he understood exactly what Leonardo was saying. "Milano is a long way away. It's nowhere near Monteriggioni."

"Of course it's not. What does that have to do with anything?"

Ezio frowned at the script on the paper. "I was going to have you move there. We were going to talk about it tonight. Or," he added, noting the late hour, "in the morning."

"Oh, _caro_." Leonardo sighed. He moved toward Ezio, hesitated just shy of contact. Then he steeled himself and braced his hands on Ezio's arms, forcing the two of them to stand close yet not close enough to distract. . "Ezio, please. Listen. I love you. I always will. But I can't do this anymore." He searched the other's handsome face for understanding, or at least acceptance. "It's been the same thing over and over again for seven years. _Seven years_. And before that, another four since I first told you how I felt. And before that, another eight during which I loved you and never said a thing. Add them up, and you'll see why I have to stop now."

"Nineteen years." Ezio murmured the words, stunned. "Has it been that long?"

"It has. And I have felt every single one of them. Twilight can't last forever, Ezio. Either night has to fall or dawn has to break. At this rate, neither is going to happen for me." Leonardo dropped his hands and took back the letter from Ezio's nerveless fingers. "I just can't go on like this anymore," he repeated, subdued. "I have given up opportunities and commissions in the past, simply because I knew they might take me away from you. Don't misunderstand-I did that because I wanted to. I was happy for a long time. But this commission..." He could not keep the somewhat dreamy note from his voice when he thought of it. "...This is going to be a masterpiece. I cannot turn it down, or I _will_ regret it."

Shadowed golden eyes focused on him, picking up on the sudden change in his tone. "What is the project?"

Leonardo smiled for real. "A horse," he said reverently. "A _gran cavallo_, cast in bronze. No one has ever done it before, not on the scale I have planned." He clutched the letter to his heart, uncaring that he crumpled the paper or that more of the wax seal chipped away. "I have been sketching it for months. Years, even, though when I started, I didn't dream that someday, someone would actually ask me to make it. Can you imagine? Sforza wants to pay me to move my workshop to Milano."

"But why can't you stay in Venezia? Or better, Monteriggioni?" Ezio did not add, but Leonardo heard nonetheless, _where I can see you, where you will be safe?_

He shook his head. "The whole idea is to go away for a while. I need to put some distance between us, _caro_, before I do something I regret. Before I begin to resent being left behind like a soldier's wife. Only I never even get the benefits of being a wife, and I am not so callous as to expect you to change what you are."

"And what am I?" demanded Ezio. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, Ezio." Leonardo drew Ezio's cheek to his, spoke softly into the other's ear. "You are Ezio. You have a woman in every quarter of every city. You love them all and they are drawn to you like cats to cream. I don't blame them, or you. But I will not put myself in a position to be hurt because you can't help but charm your way into a soft bed whenever you please. I told you-I have to be the only one. Either that," he said evenly, pulling back once more, "Or I cannot be yours at all. _Dispiace, caro_, but that is how it must be from now on."

Silence fell. Then Ezio turned away and went to the chair where his doublet lay. "I was unaware that our arrangement offended you so, Leonardo. I will leave."

"Don't be like that." Leonardo moved to intercept him. "I'm not throwing you out." More gently, he said, "You don't offend me. Perhaps anyone else would, but those years were not for nothing. I knew who and what you were and I let things go further than they should have. I don't hate you for it." He closed his hand around Ezio's, stayed it from picking up his clothes and armor.

Ezio stared at their hands, then covered Leonardo's as well. "I am still not happy about you going to Milano." His eyes met Leonardo's, fierce and hard.

"It's not forever," Leonardo promised. "You won't even notice I'm gone-you said you were going to Spain anyway. We can see how things stand when you come back."

* * *

In the end, Ezio slept alone in the bed that night. Leonardo was too anxious to sleep, and instead he spent the hours left until morning making lists and thinking about what he needed to bring with him on his trip north. He also wrote a letter to Sforza, apologizing for his late reply and accepting the commission. One of his assistants would ride ahead with it come morning, and in the meantime, Leonardo had a lot of preparation to do.

Work would also distract him from how he felt about ending things with Ezio.

Their parting came just before dawn. Ezio appeared in the workroom, dressed, armed, silent as ever. Leonardo, sleeping at his bench with quill still in hand, might have missed his leaving except that Ezio made a special effort to wake him. They stared at each other for long seconds, wavering, until Leonardo smiled.

"I regret nothing, Ezio," he said quietly. "Don't ever believe otherwise."

"You can always change your mind. My mother and sister would be happy to see you if you decide that Milano doesn't agree with you."

Leonardo couldn't help but grin, shaking his head. "I'll think it over. And I will write to them, at least. I appreciate the invitation."

"It will always be open to you," Ezio said gruffly. He seemed unsure of what to do, shifting his weight. Leonardo took pity on him and stood to embrace him.

"And I will always be your friend," he replied, closing his eyes to ward off the sudden sting behind them. He inhaled the scents of metal and leather, of wool dye and worn linen. Then, as if this was just another parting, he added, without looking at Ezio's face, "Remember your promise."

The sharp intake of breath told him his words struck a chord in the other man; suddenly, Ezio's arms tightened on him and he _felt_ more than _heard_, "Always, Leonardo." Then he was released, and before he could think, Ezio was a whirl of fabric and a glint of metal, and then he was gone.

* * *

_Author's Note: I have the absolute best betas anywhere, in any fandom. Falxumbra and Lady Madbeth, I can't thank you both enough. *heart*_


	2. Hue

_Monteriggioni, 1498_

The walls of Monteriggioni were a surprisingly welcome sight. They rose out of the rock as if they had been carved from the very hill on which the city was situated. Leonardo supposed that they might appear forbidding to some, but in the yellow, oblique sunlight of early evening, they took on a glow that made him push the horses just a little harder. He had never been here before, and yet it felt like he was coming home somehow.

A man came out from the stables by the gate to meet him. Leonardo slowed the wagon at his approach. "_Maestro_ Leonardo?" The man peered up at him, curious. At Leonardo's affirmative nod, he beamed. "_Signora_ and _Signorina_ Auditore are expecting you. I will take care of your horses and your carriage for you; you're to go up to the Villa straightaway."

"I have many delicate objects," Leonardo began as he clambered down from the high seat. "I really should-"

"No, no, _Maestro_, we will not touch them. Only you must first meet the _signore_, and then perhaps rest. They have been asking me for days if I've seen you yet."

Leonardo had to smile at that. Reassured that his precious things would remain undisturbed until he could figure out where he'd be going from here, he left the carriage in the man's capable hands and walked on foot through the tall, wide gate of Monteriggioni.

He'd been on the road for far too long. His legs ached from sitting, and the walk through the town was a welcome change. People here seemed to be content, shops did brisk business, and the guild halls showed signs of active involvement with open doors and notices posted on community boards.

As he climbed the sweeping steps that led up to the Auditore villa, he turned back to see the view. From here, he could see only the roofs of the town, then the walls, and beyond, the rolling, golden hills of the Tuscan countryside. He was glad he had gotten here when he did, for night was swiftly moving in. The eastern sky was already stained dark, but to the west, the sunset painted vivid orange and pink across narrow clouds. It seemed as if the colors met directly above where Leonardo stood, fading into each other and becoming one.

He knew he should continue up, finish those last few steps to meet his hosts, but he had to pause there for a moment. After everything that had happened in Milano, he was determined not to miss out on the pulse of life any longer. The war, the loss, the chaos that followed-it all reminded him of his own mortality. The sunset was too fleeting to take for granted, and he was not yet ready to break the spell. It was the first moment of peace he had felt in a very long time.

Even now, the senselessness of it all hurt like an arrow in his heart. His poor masterpiece, mistreated so. The first insult had been the bronze, though no one blamed Sforza for commandeering the metal for munitions. At least Leonardo had been able to make the clay model that they would use to cast the bronze when he was able to acquire more. All who saw the model assured him that it was awe-inspiring, a feat of artistic _genius_, no less. Leonardo had loved every inch of his creation, and had expected to be allowed to finish it when the war was over. But all his work went to waste at the hands of the invading army.

French bastards, to use his _Gran Cavallo_ for target practice. And then _he_ was the one blamed for never finishing, as if he had _wanted_ his beautiful horse to be used as a practice dummy. The world could be terribly unfair sometimes.

Eventually it became clear that the war was not going to end anytime soon, and so he found himself here, on the steps of Monteriggioni, a guest of the Auditore. Just as Ezio had wanted in the first place.

Ezio. Leonardo knew little of his friend's actions in the nearly four years since they'd parted. There had been exactly two letters, in fact-one from _Signora_ Maria that mentioned Ezio's successes in Spain, and an earlier one from the man himself-a quick note, more like-that made simple inquiries about his health and his work. Leonardo's reply to that one had gone unacknowledged, and sometimes he worried that his own letter had been perhaps too long, or too emotional, or too something. Because he learned later that Ezio was back in Italia, in _Venezia_, actually, and had sent no further word. It was only through the mother's letter that he even knew Ezio still lived.

Still, the loss of his beautiful statue and the unstable political climate in Milano had forced Leonardo to leave, and he finally chose to accept the invitation that only a few years ago he'd turned down. Monteriggioni was the safest place he could think of, and honestly, he missed Maria Auditore's intelligent company. The plan was to stay a few days, get his bearings, and leave before Ezio could return.

The light changed, the moment passed. The pink clouds thickened into purple and grey, darkening the sky further. The first breeze of nightfall ruffled his hair and was just cool enough to remind him that he was outside without a proper cloak. Autumn was already giving way to Winter, it seemed. With each year, the chill began earlier and earlier.

Or perhaps the chill was in himself, he mused, thoughts turning dark like the sky as he mounted the remaining steps. He crossed the flagstones to the villa's main door and knocked, ready to be inside and surrounded by people who cared about him in some way that had nothing to do with political gain.

Warmth, almost tangible, flowed over him when the door opened. Maria Auditore stood with her arms open, welcoming him home like he was her own. "Leonardo," she cried, "it is so good to see you! Come in, come in, _Maestro_, and let me look at you."

"Ah, _Signora_," he said, and her smile was as warm as the light in the room. Leonardo felt his heart swell; as many acquaintances and patrons as he had, so few would be as truly happy to see him as this woman was. None would have taken him in like this, he was certain, not without expecting something in return. "Thank you so much for your kind invitation."

"Nonsense. I feared you'd never accept. Claudia! Come see-our guest has arrived at last!" Maria took his hand and led him into an elegant, well-lit hall from which several doors opened. The _figlia Auditore_ sauntered through one of these, a slender girl with a heart-shaped face. She was unmistakably Ezio's sister. Leonardo could tell at once, from the way her head cocked to the side and she measured him with a single glance.

"It is a pleasure," he offered, bowing, and she smiled.

"The pleasure is mine." Her gaze flickered to her mother, who was instructing a servant to bring refreshment for their guest. Leonardo could see concern in that look, though relief was there, too. She returned to her study of him as if nothing had happened. "Mother speaks very highly of you. So," and here she raised a brow, "does my brother."

Oh, he would have to watch himself around this one. "I was not aware your brother spoke of me at all," he said coolly, matching her gaze for gaze.

The room went quiet for a moment, and then Claudia laughed. "_Maestro_, I think we will get along very, very well." She extended her hand and he took it, chuckling over it as he bowed once more.

Maria's own wry smile spoke volumes as she led them into a comfortable sitting room to share some wine. Leonardo wondered just what he'd walked into with these two. Ezio always seemed to think they were delicate and in need of shelter, but already Leonardo could see that assessment went very wide of its mark. These women were both strong and all-too-observant. He followed them, amused, and wondered if perhaps he should have visited sooner.

* * *

The next day was much like that first evening, spent in the pleasant company of the Auditore women. Maria, despite her long years of grieving, was once more possessed of a quick mind and strong, well-informed opinions. Claudia, though equally opinionated, could be acerbic and sweet in the same breath. Leonardo had never been much for female friends but these two were easy exceptions to the rule. He wondered more than once what would happen if he got the two of them, Paola, and Teodora into the same room. _Porco mondo_, but that would be true _conversation_.

Mario, the imposing uncle, returned the night after Leonardo arrived. Normally, he would be out with his men for days at a time to patrol the surrounding land. But he, too, was glad to see Leonardo when he strode in from his most recent circuit, just in time for an excellent dinner with his family and guest.

"How do you like it, my family's home?" he asked, his voice like a hunting horn in the echoing dining room. "You should have seen all the work we did to restore it!"

"The villa is beautiful," agreed Leonardo as he sipped his wine. "Though the rooms of armor...?"

Mario refilled his own glass and took a hearty quaff. "They were Ezio's idea. He says it honors the craftsmen who protect his life with their work. Between you and me, _amico_, I think it's just that he doesn't want to fill up his private room with too many things."

Claudia agreed. "He treats the villa like a shrine to his own ego. Except..." she looked thoughtful. "...there are portraits he never displays. Those, he keeps hidden away in his room." As if the idea suddenly occurred to her, she looked at Leonardo. "Have you ever seen them? He paints them himself."

"What portraits?" Maria sounded surprised. "I thought all of the art was hanging in the Gallery."

Claudia shook her head. "These are different. Leonardo, come with me. I will show you." She rose smoothly from her chair and beckoned. Leonardo had no choice but to follow, mystified.

They climbed the stairs to the second level, walked past the door of Leonardo's room, and instead went to the door just beyond it. This led to a hall, a turn, and then a dead end. Leonardo was startled to see a ladder instead of more stairs; apparently, Ezio had taken the attic as his own. Sure enough, Claudia climbed it, managing her heavy skirts with ease. "Come up," she called to him. "The paintings are here."

"Why does he not have a normal room?" Leonardo inquired. "This seems strangely isolated."

She rolled her eyes. "My brother likes his privacy. The poor servants-they have to bring hot water up here whenever he takes a bath. They used to have to carry it all down again until they complained so much that he was forced to come up with a solution. Now there's a gutter, but _Dio mio_, I was ready to strangle everyone involved until they figured it out."

Leonardo only half-listened to her speak as he turned in a slow circle. Ezio's private quarters were spare, simple. Unlike the gleaming tile of the lower floors, this room boasted only wooden floorboards and heavy wooden beams. He noted the desk and the carpets underneath; the red upholstered chair in one corner and the simple, sturdy bed in another. There were no decorations save for the portraits that Claudia had brought him here to see, and these were hung at regular intervals around the room.

He found himself drawn to the faces. They were familiar, some of them; Uberto Alberti, certainly, would never be erased from his own memory. He also remembered Marco Barbarigo and Carlo Grimaldi quite clearly. He had directly aided Ezio with both assassinations in Venezia. Others, however, he barely recalled, such as the Pazzi boy and his father. But here they all were, everyone who had conspired against the Auditore and the Medici, everyone who had met death at Ezio's hands.

Claudia sniffed in derision. "These _bastardi_ killed my father and brothers," she said, her voice tight. "I don't know why he keeps them out like this."

"I think I do," said Leonardo. "He has to remember them. Not to honor them, but to keep himself from becoming like them." He touched the canvas, felt the ridges of dry paint beneath his fingertips. "This is...this is my technique here." He looked at Claudia, who shrugged, not understanding.

"Didn't you teach him how to paint?" she asked. "When I first found him working on one, he told me he had learned from you."

Would the man never cease to surprise him? "I never taught him, not directly. He must have watched me, though I thought he always slept when I worked. How strange." Leonardo turned to her. "How did you find out about this in the first place? Not even your mother seems to have known."

Claudia shrugged again, though this time the gesture was full of the easy Auditore arrogance that Leonardo knew all too well. "Leonardo," she said, as if the answer was terribly obvious, "In this house, I always know _everything_." She smiled sweetly, then went to the ladder. "Now we should return to Mother, since Uncle Mario will likely wish to retire early and I don't want to leave her alone. It would be awkward."

Leonardo took one last look around the room as she descended. He couldn't shake the feeling of having been there before, as if something about the very air seemed secure, reassuring, _known_. He made himself go after her, leaving the room and its paintings behind. For the rest of the evening, he concentrated on the witty banter at which Maria and Claudia excelled, even though he could not let go of the feeling that room instilled in him. The answer came to him only much later, after he had gone to bed.

The red chair that stood in the corner had once been his, from his own room, years ago in Venezia.

Now what was he supposed to make of that?


	3. Intensity

_Monteriggioni, 3 days later_

By the end of the third day, Leonardo felt quite at home. Claudia insisted that he set up an easel in her study, a cozy room that he rather liked. They talked while she went over the villa's accounts, and when she was unable to talk and work at the same time, there was always Emilio, the architect the Auditore retained on staff. Leonardo was delighted to meet yet another bright mind, especially one in that specialized field. For the most part, the three of them worked on their respective projects in an easy silence, broken only by the scratch of Claudia's quill, the soft clack of wood blocks in Emilio's model of the city, or the swipe of Leonardo's brush.

That day, after dinner, Maria joined them and sat by the fire near where he painted. Emilio had gone home and Mario was out on patrol, so it was just Leonardo and the Auditore women once more. Maria laughed at something Claudia said, and Leonardo drew breath to add a comment of his own, when they heard a commotion at the front door of the villa.

The room was suddenly awash in sound: Mario's baritone, the servants' joyful cries, shouts of welcome and and then half a dozen people piled into the study. Leonardo recognized the faces, some of whom he had not seen since leaving Venezia. Antonio, the thief; Bartolomeo, the _condottiero_; Paola, the courtesan. La Volpe lurked nearby, and Niccolo Machiavelli strode in to wait impatiently by Mario's office door. Theodora was there, too, still beautiful in her unorthodox nun's habit, her dark, knowing gaze meeting Leonardo's with a nod.

And in the middle of all this, Leonardo felt his heart stop beating for just a moment at the sight of one more visage that he had both hoped and dreaded to see.

Maria leapt up from her chair and flew to embrace her son. "Ezio! Ezio!" she cried. He wrapped his arms about her in return, lifting her from her feet. He laughed and said something quiet in her ear as he hugged her close. He freed one arm in order to pull Claudia in as well, and though Leonardo had heard Claudia exclaim more than once that she planned to turn her nose up at him, the _cretino_, she went to him happily.

The crowd was overwhelming, too loud, and Leonardo suddenly craved the peace he had expected of the evening. He pasted on a neutral expression and set his palette down out of the way, intending to skirt around the group and escape to the courtyard.

He found his way blocked instead, by the one person he wished most to avoid. "Leonardo," said Ezio, drawing out the word in his rich, lazy, Tuscan accent. His smile was the same as ever. "It's good to see you, _amico mio_."

"It's good to see you as well," Leonardo replied, and it was the truth. The time apart had reminded him that Ezio, too, was a little older, his voice a little deeper, but he was still Ezio. Leonardo realized the other man's arms were opened to _him_ now, and he accepted the hug for the sake of appearances. It was all he could do to uncurl his hands from where they automatically clutched Ezio's doublet, but given the chaos of the sudden group, he was sure no one had noticed.

Then they stood apart as Ezio stepped back, fishing in his belt pouch. "I have something special for you! It's been burning a hole in my pocket since I found it. Look!"

What he produced and held between them made Leonardo's face go pale. "A...it's a Codex page!"

"_Si, si!_ The last one. Isn't it wonderful?" Ezio's grin could illuminate the whole villa if he so chose. "I brought it for you."

The last one. Leonardo took it with shaking hands as if it was a religious relic. In a way, of course, it was, if Altair could be compared in any way to a saint. He found himself unable to open it at first. What if it was a page of only pictures as some had been? Had he already decoded all of the written entries? Would he be denied that one last chance to challenge himself against the ancient Assassin?

The others stopped talking, all eyes upon him. The pressure was only slightly less unbearable than the desire to see what the scroll contained. He glanced around the room, then down at the page in his hand, and then, with purpose, he strode to Claudia's desk and opened the scroll.

A page of text revealed itself, and Leonardo breathed a sigh of relief that was nearly a prayer. "Claudia," he murmured, "may I borrow your quill and some paper?"

The sounds of the others faded as he studied the page, looking for patterns that might be hidden within the letters. He saw it, suddenly, a careful arrangement that hid itself like a thief around a corner. He teased it out, drew the message from the parchment and let his writing hand run wild in transcription. "Yes," he said softly to the page, forgetting that he was not alone, "yes, there you are. I see you."

It was over far too quickly.

Mario, watching over his shoulder, let out a mighty whoop of victory when the quill stopped moving and Leonardo let the scroll snap closed. In a heartbeat, Mario's hand caught up the fragile paper and held it aloft.

"The last one!" he declared, "Let us add it to the Wall. Perhaps now we can see what the old _Gran Maestro_ has been trying to tell us." He led the group into his office, all of them filing after him once they had finished congratulating Leonardo on his skill with the code.

Leonardo could only watch them go. His fingers still tingled from the feel of ancient parchment and his mind still reeled from the puzzle. He knew he should be happy, proud, but his accomplishment wasn't a salve for the sudden void in his heart. He had never noticed how much those rare pages had come to mean over the years, and he missed them already.

He realized with a start that without the need for decryption, his own role in the Assassins' war had suddenly become less of a priority. For he was not an Assassin himself, and he felt the change as surely as if someone had come out and said it. Even Ezio had not given him a second glance as he strode through the door of Mario's office, focused as he was on the solution to the Codex's mystery and learning about his next mission.

Silence fell heavily in the study. Maria did not notice the awkwardness; she stood watching the door with her hands clasped, Claudia beside her and wearing a frown. Both of them seemed suspended in time, waiting for that door to open again and for Ezio to emerge.

Leonardo went to set the quill down in an absent-minded haze, missed the inkwell twice and then finally got it. He mumbled something to no one in particular about needing air, fresh air, and then he fled the study and the Villa, hoping that the cool night might help calm him.

It was not until he was safely outside, concealed in the shadows by the east wall where the lights of the house did not reach, that he allowed the first hollow sobs past his throat. He pressed his hands to the sides of his face as if he could shove the tears _back_ and _down_ by force. How wretched a sight he must be, how pathetic. A man of his age, crying like a new widow or a jilted lover. If only it was that straightforward, some single event that he could say hurt him. Instead, he wept over some vague emotion that he could not nail down: a mix of sorrow and loss, disappointment and grief.

Anger, too, at himself for believing in dreams; at the Assassins for their dismissal of him when he was no longer useful; at Ezio, of course, unfairly, for not being what he wanted Ezio to be. And again the anger returned to himself, for wanting what he could not have, and for never moving on.

A pair of slender, soft arms surrounded him, and an unexpectedly gentle voice murmured consoling words in his ear. Leonardo knelt on the cold grass and tried to contain himself, difficult though it was. One of the hands combed through his hair, which helped. As he calmed, the voice lost its gentleness and hardened, turning caustic, and the soothing words became invective aimed at someone else. It was Claudia who had come to him, by turns reassuring him and impugning Ezio's character.

She seemed to notice that Leonardo was quieter now and she pulled away to study his face. She looked so much like her mother that Leonardo could not help a wan smile. Satisfied that he would not break down again, she patted his back. "Better, _amico_?"

He nodded and drew a shaky breath. He was mortified to have been seen like that, but could not deny that her presence was a balm for his aching heart. "Thank you, _s-si_. I-I don't know what came over me."

"Faugh," she spat, glaring at the wall of the villa as though she could see through the stone, "my brother is the biggest _cretino_ in Italia. So what if he's a good fighter-_anyone_ can hit things with a sword. Agh, he's so stupid much of the time." Claudia regarded him out of the corner of her eye, her head tilted in thought. "But," she added softly, "you're in love with him anyway."

Leonardo felt the statement like a boot to the gut. In an instant, a thousand denials whirled through his mind, and in another, they were all discarded. He could not lie to her, not when he could see she knew the truth already. He stared at his hands in his lap and replied, miserable, nearly silent, "Yes, I am."

"I suppose it is only to be expected." Her tone made him look up, and he could see the beginnings of her usual dry smirk, again so much like her mother's and her brother's. "It is easy to forget that you, too, are only a man, Leonardo. No matter how much smarter you seem than most." Her eyes put the lie to her words, revealing a fondness within, and her hand stroked the side of his face.

It was comfort enough. "You are wasted on Monteriggioni," he said with a sigh. "Perhaps it is a good thing, though. I do not think the rest of Italia would know how to deal with a second _tiranna_."

"Did you just compare me to Caterina Sforza?" She laughed and patted his cheek. "Flatterer. Now-"

"Leonardo? Leonardo! Are you out here?"

The easy smile transformed into a scowl on her pretty face. She stood, pulling Leonardo up with her. "Go. Around to the back. _I_ will deal with Ezio."

He intended to thank her, but her attention was already on the approaching form of her brother. Leonardo took the chance to withdraw. He both did and did not want to talk to Ezio just yet; perhaps later they could sit down together, when Leonardo's face was not streaked with shameful tears and when he could form a coherent sentence in Ezio's presence.

A glance over his shoulder showed him Claudia, striding over to meet Ezio. Ezio was not looking at her, however. Instead, he scanned the darkness beyond where he stood, at the border where the light from the house ended and the shadowy gardens began. For a moment, Leonardo wondered if he should go back, meet Ezio and get the words out of his heart.

But what would he expect after that? A matching confession? Would he even want it now-after being ignored for years and used and cast aside? That thought was worse than even flat-out rejection.

Full of regret, Leonardo turned his face away and fled to the back of the house.

* * *

_As always,_ molto grazie _to my betas _ _**falxumbra**__ and Lady Madbeth. Mwah!_


	4. Luminosity

The sounds of bickering faded until the words were mere sounds, floating like moths in the still night air. Leonardo felt his head clear a little as he went to the rampart. On this side, the wall was nearly flush with the side of the cliff, and the drop below him was dizzying. If he leaned out a little, he could almost believe that he was hovering in midair above the moonlit fields.

"I knew I saw you come this way." Ezio said behind him, disgruntled.

Leonardo hadn't heard him approach, though he wasn't surprised he'd been found. "Claudia was going to stop you," he said without looking around.

There was a rustle of fabric as Ezio pulled down his hood. He joined Leonardo at the wall and propped his chin on a fist as he, too, gazed out over the fields. At length, he heaved a great sigh and sidled closer to Leonardo. "Are you angry at me?"

"Ezio." Quiet exasperation crept into his voice, though it lacked any heat. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"I thought as much." There was suddenly a hand on Leonardo's arm and a warm presence at his side. "I'm sure I deserve it."

Something about the way he said it made Leonardo's improving mood evaporate in an instant. He pushed away from the wall and turned to face Ezio, truly angry now. "You think you might? Can you truly pretend nothing has changed? Do you believe that you can just come back and act like you haven't _ignored_ me for the past _four years_-"

"I didn't ignore you, I just-"

"You wrote to me _once_." Leonardo said through gritted teeth. "I did not come here for you. I came because I needed shelter, and your mother, who _did_ keep up a correspondence with me the _entire time_, offered to let me stay in Monteriggioni. _That_ is why I am here. Not to see you, or to be here to translate your damned Codex page." He took a breath. "If not for her, I wouldn't have known you lived at all."

"I-" Ezio made a frustrated noise. He paced, full of nervous energy, and Leonardo was struck by how unlike Ezio this was. Indecision stalled whatever it was that Ezio wanted to say, and this, too, was unusual.

Though not unusual enough to keep Leonardo from turning away. Before he could go further, however, Ezio caught his arm and spun him around.

"Leonardo, look at me!" Strong fingers gripped his shoulders and held him in place. "I just-please. There are things we must talk about but I simply don't have the time." At Leonardo's frustrated sigh, he shook his head. "No, no, I mean that I have to leave in the morning for Roma, and it would be unfair to start talking about it tonight if we can't finish the discussion. I need to be sure you won't leave before I get back."

"I might. If I get a new commission-"

"I know, my mother told me. She said you were sending letters to people who wanted to hire you. New patrons. She said-" he choked on the words, went on. "She said that you planned to leave as soon as someone hired you. Please don't."

Leonardo was certain he would have bruises where Ezio's fingers dug into his skin. Gently, he touched one of the other man's hands. They loosened immediately, fell away, though Leonardo did not retreat. "Why shouldn't I go?"

"Because I need a reason to return." Immediately once the words passed his lips, Ezio growled and turned away, pacing again. "That is not what I want to say but it works just as well. Please, Leonardo!"

The reason was suddenly so clear, so sharp. "You're afraid."

Ezio stopped moving. He met Leonardo's eyes steadily, then nodded slowly, once. "Please," he breathed.

He would have to say it like that, wouldn't he? Leonardo stared at him for long seconds. What was Ezio thinking? Was this time really any different from the dozens of times before? Where did that note of desperation come from?

"It's late," Leonardo heard himself say at last, "and you have a long ride ahead of you. Get some sleep." He put a hand on Ezio's arm, then lightly embraced his friend.

Ezio returned the hug just as carefully, as though Leonardo was a wild bird he didn't want to frighten. "But will you..."

"I'll wait." God help him.

"Then I will say farewell now. I may not see you before I leave, for I plan to ride out at dawn."

"Ahh." Leonardo sighed, and without thinking, he rested his head on Ezio's shoulder, where it always felt natural to do so. "_Buona fortuna, caro._" He felt his lips turn upward into a sad smile. "And...well. You know to remember your promise."

All at once, Leonardo was being crushed to Ezio's chest, the other's hands clutching at his clothes and his face buried against Leonardo's neck. Before Leonardo could regain his senses or struggle, Ezio gentled. His breath came unevenly, hot and damp on Leonardo's skin. "You know," he said at length, voice muffled, "that promise is all that keeps me alive sometimes."

"Don't say that," Leonardo whispered, a bolt of fear lancing through his heart. "I feel responsible for holding your life in my hands. What if I lose it?"

"You won't. That's why I trust you with it." Ezio stepped back just enough to look at him. He started to say something, thought better of it, closed his mouth. They faced each other now, close enough to touch if only one of them would reach out.

Neither did.

They stood in awkward silence. It stretched between them, enveloped them, until Leonardo felt it might smother him entirely. Then resignation caused Ezio's shoulders to hunch just the tiniest bit; for someone with such control over his body, the movement was as telling as if he'd heaved another sigh. "Ah, _amico_, I should go. I am tired and I did not rest much on the way here. _Mi scusi_."

Leonardo lifted a hand to stop him, but at that same instant, Ezio jerked his head in a parody of a nod and turned away. Then he walked stiffly toward the shadowed wall of the villa. Leonardo heard a grunt and the clap of a leather boot sole against stone. He could imagine Ezio pulling himself up to the top, hand over hand, finding every crevice that might serve as a toehold.

The sounds faded as Ezio climbed higher and higher, farther and farther away. Leonardo stood where he was, blinking in the cool breeze. His earlier tears had left his eyes dry and feeling coarse, and now, though he still felt hollow, he found himself unable to cry again. The knowledge pleased him on some level, that he had at least enough self-control not to break down as he had.

What peace there had been, however, was no longer to be found. In its place, Leonardo felt restlessness build inside him.

To Hell with it.

Leonardo's feet started moving before his brain even began to process the decision he'd made. They carried him into the house, swiftly past the still-crowded office and up the stairs to the second level. Past his room, too, without hesitation, and down the hidden hallway that ended in a ladder. He clambered over the top and into the room. Ezio was frozen in surprise, already half-undressed. His Assassin's robes had been carefully hung and his armor laid out neatly for the next morning.

"Don't say a word," Leonardo muttered in response to Ezio's nonplussed expression. "Not a single word." He crossed the room, carelessly shedding his doublet and dropping it wherever it fell along the way. At the bed, he sat and tugged off his boots, kicking them aside. Then he looked up at Ezio, who still had not moved.

A dozen questions flickered across his friend's face, though all went unasked. Then, all at once, Ezio smiled warmly. He looked relieved beyond hope, and Leonardo knew that he'd made the right decision. For Ezio, at least.

The bed was not large, but it was enough to accommodate the two of them. Leonardo lay back first against the pillows and opened his arms for Ezio to join him. Still silent, Ezio climbed into the bed and arranged himself along Leonardo's side. They embraced each other, chaste and comforting, and with a sigh, Ezio rested his head over Leonardo's heart. It all felt so warm, so _right_.

Just like that, four years apart might never have happened.

Ezio stirred. "Leonardo, you shouldn't-," he began, but Leonardo stroked a gentle hand over the other's dark-bearded jaw, stopping the flow of words before the sentence could end.

"I know," said Leonardo softly, "It's all right." He pressed a kiss to the top of Ezio's head. "Get some sleep."

He felt Ezio's arms tighten about him briefly in response, then relax. His breathing grew even, slower, shallower, and soon Ezio slept as though nothing could trouble him. Leonardo idly drew his fingers through Ezio's loosened hair and smoothed the strands in their wake.

Then he, too, slept.

* * *

Morning came to Leonardo by way of an errant sunbeam, refracted through beveled, diamond-paned glass. He rubbed at his eyes to scour the sleep away, the other hand groping blindly at the space where Ezio had lain the night before. It found nothing but rumpled sheets, and this realization brought him to full awareness. He sat up quickly, ignoring the rush of dizziness and the dull ache that reminded him of last night's shameful tears.

All signs that Ezio had been there were gone. His armor, his robes, his boots: all were conspicuously missing and the room was just as austere as it had been when Leonardo had first seen it.

It was not, however, empty. Claudia Auditore stood silhouetted against the window, looking out. As usual where Ezio was concerned, an odd tension suffused her. Her arms were crossed and she tapped a finger against something she held in one hand. At his movement, she turned.

"He left an hour ago," she said without preamble. "I told him he should have woken you up but he doesn't listen to me. I don't know why I even try to talk to him sometimes."

"No, it's all right." Leonardo felt sheepish. After last night, their conversation, he wondered if she understood what he was thinking. "I didn't expect to see him this morning anyway."

She raised a brow. "Liar," she murmured, though her face was kind. Then she strode to the bed and tossed something to land beside him with a rustle and a faint thump. "This is for you. He kept insisting that I say nothing but if he's not going to listen to me, then I will not listen to him."

"What..." Leonardo picked it up. 'It' turned out to be a small packet of pages bound by a ribbon. Some of the paper was new, while other pages had yellowed with age. "...What is this?"

Claudia pursed her lips. "Letters. No, don't bother looking for some code, just read them. Perhaps when my brother returns, you can ask him yourself why he tried to hide them from you. I am done with explaining his actions away." She paused, and in that moment, the fire seemed to drain from her. "I will send some food up for you. You shall not be disturbed otherwise. Come down only when you're ready."

He waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before his fingers plucked at the ribbon. It fell limply open, creased and slightly frayed in places as though it had been tied and untied countless times. Leonardo recognized Ezio's bold handwriting instantly, its hurried, confident strokes like furrows across the paper. Leonardo could appreciate how they flowed, straight-ruled and sharp. But then his breath stopped at a symbol that he knew well. He used it often enough himself: a lion surrounded by flames.

_Lion arde_. Leonardo.

The letters were for him.

With hands that refused to steady, Leonardo chose the topmost page and unfolded it.

* * *

_I seem to collect the best, most thorough betas this fandom has to offer. Obviously, this chapter gave me a lot of grief and it was a long time before I could feel comfortable posting it. Falxumbra, Lady Madbeth, and now Alexb49 have proven themselves beyond valuable. I am lucky to have them listen to me whine, talk me back from the ledge, and point out when I've ceased making sense from one paragraph to the next. _Grazie mille_ as always, my loves._


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